


Fires Beyond the Clouds

by nerdyydragon



Series: Kingsman Tumblr Ficlets [21]
Category: Kingsman (2014), Kingsman (2015), Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Eventual Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, F/M, Gods!AU, Greek and Roman Mythology - Freeform, Immortality, Mythological Elements, Norse Mythology - Freeform, family reunion - but not the way you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-08-20 11:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8246773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyydragon/pseuds/nerdyydragon
Summary: The world, to mortals, seems a rapidly changing place, perhaps because their lives are so fragile and fleeting. It is not uncommon for immortals to have a hand in changing the course of history, but it is always a surprise to run into one of your own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any characters or plotlines related to Kingsman: Secret Service, nor do I (obviously) own any of the associated religious mythological elements you see used here.

In their lifetime, they’ve gone by many names. The Greeks called them Apollo and Artemis, the Romans knew them as Phoebus and Diana. The Norsemen had older names still and they went there by many, calling him Baldur or Bragi and her Volla or Fylgja or Vor, here though they were seen together they were not siblings.

But that was millennia past, before the fall of their pantheons, and the destruction of their altars and temples and devout followers in the raids of Christendom. Though they are weakened, they are no less immortal.

In this world they walk with human names, as do their divine brethren whom they have not seen, just as they have not seen each other in over a century.

—–

Gary - for that is what he is known as in this time - takes the fall for his human friends when he crashes a car. It has taken him a literal divine amount of patience, one tempered only in eons, not to utterly destroy the man that his kind Michelle has harboured, to not reveal his power. But he is all but finished here, for as much as he would like to leave there is a small child that still needs his protection. It has been far too long since he cared for human life with no prospect of anything in return. His sister would be proud, he thinks.

He calls in the number on the back of an odd medal that Michelle had given him, told him that he would have more use of it. He knows the Kingsman - he and his beloved kin had watched their creation even as they meddled in the outcome.

Harry Hart waits for him outside the police station, takes him to the pub he had fled the night before, and takes out Dean’s ilk without so much as breaking a sweat. Gary is impressed, and it has been awhile since he felt as such. He knows then and there that no matter what Harry offers him, he will accept.

The elevator ride that evening seems a reward and a punishment, for he has long since learned how to keep secrets, but still hates to be kept waiting.

He tries not to react in shock at the vision of his sister milling about the room, and neither make a move in acknowledgment until the lights have gone out and the rest of the recruits are asleep.

“Eggsy.” She says softly, rolling the name around in her mouth. “Really?” He shrugs, even if he is unsure whether she will see it.

“I have been called worse. Not that I could say the same of Roxanne.” She tangles their fingers together across the distance between their cots, and both squeeze tightly enough that they would break bones were they mortal. They let go eventually, when they hear someone across the room get up and use the toilet, and both are asleep shortly after that.

Then the water comes, and they startle awake, his first thought in his oddly sleep-slogged mind is that Ragnarök is upon them and that they are being targeted. Then there are shouts of “loo snorkels” and he remembers, busies himself with finding a way out as even if he and Roxy would survive they cannot hold out forever, and the humans are for more fragile than they. He hits the plexiglass and it shatters, everyone spilling out into the floor beyond.

“Roxy, Charlie, congratulations - for those of you who are still confused, if you can get a hose around the u-bend in a loo you’ll have an unlimited air supply. Eggsy, quick thinking, recognizing the glass.” Charlie mutters something under his breath that the bald man ignores as he gestures to the room behind him. “But if it were up to me, you all would have failed. You forgot the most important aspect of Kingsman - teamwork.” He feels his sister’s pain as acutely as though it were his own, staring at the drowned body of Amelia, and he is reminded of Hyacinth and Daphne and those who died before their time. He locks a hand on her shoulder and lends her strength, but says nothing.

“She would have made an excellent shield-maiden.” Is all his sister offers when he presses her later.

Charlie wakes him up in the middle of the night, he and his posh wanker fellows throwing water on him. The only thing stopping him from snapping the whelp’s spine in anger is his sister’s hands on his chest, even as the air around them smells faintly of ozone.

They fall from the sky, one by one the others drifting away from them, and he is left clutching at his sister’s waist in an effort to get them both to the ground. Strong as they are a fall from that height would near kill them. He wonders if this is how his Icarus felt as his wax feathers melted from their frames and he dropped from the sky before he could catch him. After that there are three, and the end is getting close.

He is nearly run over by a train, the real test (he knew that for all his honeyed words and charm his sister would have won the challenge had it been what they were originally set up to do). He wonders if he would survive being dismembered, but had barely time to think about it before he is being raised again and Harry is untying him. He spends the night at the man’s house, and for all that Harry looks at him he knows that it would not end well.

He can’t shoot his dog - it seems his years among humans have made him soft - and the anger Harry presents to him with would have gotten the man killed had it been even two centuries ago, setting aside how reckless he had been in his original form. Then Harry goes to Kentucky and is killed, and Gary finds that he feels pain for he thought the man at the very least a friend.

The next day is a blur. He kills Chester King easily, for it isn’t difficult to summon the ruthlessness that simmers in his veins. On their way to the mountain he is reminded of the age-old passage to Olympus, the clouds drifting gently over the peaks, and for the first time in ages he feels homesick. They drop his sister on a snowy plain set up with a flight apparatus, and he hoped that the irrational fear of heights she seems to have developed will not mean her death, even as he grips her fingers tightly and tries to convey how much he loves her. Then he is sent into a mountain and slaughters dozens, nearly hundreds, in a way he hasn’t done in a long time, since before the fall of the æsir. It seems as though he may be finished even as he comms his sister to tell her his instructions for the only two humans he really cares about, and then he and Merlin remember that he has a way out.

Gazelle fights admirably, but he was once known as a god of plagues and the poison he uses now is no different. He summons his reserve of godly strength and the air crackles with ozone even as he spears Valentine in the back - Artemis would be proud of his aim for all that she never could resist bragging about her natural prowess.

The Swedish princess is enticing, but he leaves her be. He can hear his sister on the other end of the line and he needs to get back, so he tells their human handler to open the cell doors, and he leaves Tilde with instructions for cleanup but leaves the rest in her hands.

She nearly tackles him when he reaches her where she is waiting in the snow, and they tumble to the ground together breathing each other in and clutching greedily, because for the first time in millennia they faced the very real possibility of death.

“I have missed you, sister.” He says, his Ancient Greek rough and stumbling as he holds her tighter. Her tears wet the shoulder of the suit he wears in place of golden armour and furs and drips down the side of his neck, even as her trembling slows.

“I love you, brother. I always have.” Her Slavic is better, but she sounds choked and her words are quiet. He presses a kiss to her hair and she sighs, Merlin watching them with curious eyes from the door of the plane.

Their reunion - truly, for that is what this was - has been a long time coming, and they both know that they cannot spend a stretching distance away from each other for what will be a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay friends - this definitely became a thing far beyond what I expected it to be. This is happening now I guess. Welcome to the ride.

When Bragi first touched down from the bifrost to Midgard, he is astounded at the ruggedness of the realm; the way the snow capped the trees in heavy layers, bowing the branches and forming a regal arch over a natural path through the barren wood. Despite the snow, the forest floor is skiffed gently here and there and patches of green push through towards the increasing sunlight. Were he not as angry with Odin, who had forbidden travel between realms for Thor’s transgression, he would have written a ballad long enough to ring through the halls of Asgard for hours after he had finished, all dedicated to the sunrise and the mist hung with ice in transition from winter into spring. Careful not to leave tracks in the snow - he knows that Freyja will follow him, but he does not wish to make it too easy - he picks his way through the forest, listening intently to the muted sounds and signs of life.

Rising above the trees where the land slips into valley, there is smoke, and he follows. This way there are people, and if he colours his tongue enough he may be able to gain a hot meal and a place to stay for the night. The people of this region, he knows from lengthy time spent with Heimdall, are devout. Treat him as a man, and he may gain their trust. Recognize him as a god, and he will have them laying down before his boots. Lengthening his stride, he makes his way through the underbrush towards the rising. He pauses once, and only briefly, to study a set of tracks in the snow.

They are  _ ulfr _ , and larger than he has seen since before he knows not when. It troubles him, the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that such tracks should appear here out of all the nine realms.

Before he knows it he has reached the village, a small but sturdy collection of rough houses and forges built of wood and stone. A small child no more than six, with eyes so blue they rivalled that of the clearest sky, looked up at him as he passes, then darts away and slipped inside a building on the far edge of the encampment. He is kept only a moment before a man strongly resembling Odin reopens it and strides across the small clearing. The chief, for that is who he was, surveys him from head to toe, taking in the thick firs and the cut of his jaw, to the leather plating over his tunic carved carefully with runes, and the sturdiness of his boots. He walks in a circle, leaning in to see the etched gold along the rim of his scabbard and the fine fletching on his arrows.  _ He is taking too long _ , Bragi thinks.  _ What does he see? _ But the chief only kneels when he stops in front of him again, and looks up at him after a moment. Bragi pulls the mortal to his feet and they embrace warmly; whatever test he had underwent he had passed.

Dinner is a rich affair, with everyone elbows deep in elk and mead and fire warmed bread. To the left of him from his place at the head of the long table, and three seats down, sits a woman whose face he returns to continuously throughout the meal, and monopolizes her time in the dancing afterwards. Her eyes are a forest green, shot through with specks of blues and gold. He hopes, though to no one in particular, that he his not breaching bloodlines when he accompanies her home in the early hours of the morning.

There is not one member of the company who is surprised to see the two of them together the next day, though everyone is sent into a mad scramble when thunder rolls in and the sky darkens far too quickly for it to be natural. There is a flash of lightning and the thunder cracks, but the rain that is expected does not fall. Instead, four strangers appear out of the trees, and ravens line the branches that held the snow. Bragi stiffens, but steels himself for his fate. He knows he has been found, and will be taken before the AllFather for retribution. He bids his farewells to the chief and to his mortal beloved, and that is when the screaming starts. His fellow æsir have rallied them into a group, and are holding them until he brings himself forward.

“I thought the AllFather had decreed we leave the realm of Midgard out of our petty squabbles, brothers?” He raises his arms to the sides like a cross, making himself large to protect the people whom in so short a time he has come to care for. His gaze shifts to the side, and he sees his sister. He tries not to let the appearance of Freyja break his confident exterior. “I thought he had decreed we keep the war on the homefront?”

“The AllFather decreed we leave all realms in peace. This includes Midgard.” Bragi sneered pointedly at the speaker.

“Magni. Of course it would be you. Still cleaning up your father’s messes, then?” Magni drew his sword, but Freyja’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“That is enough, Bragi. We are not here to cause trouble. We are here to bring you home.” Bold words from his sister; neither of them had had a  _ home _ in eons, and the cold, ringing halls of Asgard were not theirs. As if on cue, one of Magni’s pets, for which he always did have a liking, lunged out of the trees and straight towards the small child who had heralded his arrival, now struck with fright. He didn’t think; he dove and covered the child with his own body as a shield, rolling them across the earth. Standing over the child, Bragi drew his sword and leveled it at his brethren.

“Fine. You wanted me? Here I am.”

\----

A small hand tugged on the sleeve of his shirt, pulling him out of his reverie. Looking down from where he had been standing at the window, staring blankly at the London skyline, he saw Daisy - Michelle’s young one - staring up at him with a hand-drawn picture in one hand. She couldn’t be more than four now, and every day she reminded him more and more of that little girl from the village. He would not make the same mistakes twice, even if it brought him to his final stand.

“What is it, little flower?” She tugged the sleeve of her shirt between her teeth, a habit both he and Michelle had given their best to try and break, and handed him the paper before looking down at her socked feet. It was by far the most impressive one he had seen; she didn’t draw as a four year old should. Daisy had seemed to have plucked the image right out of his past, for it contained a mirror image of the forest he had just been remembering, down to the pawprints in the snow and the ravens in the trees above him, the sun shining gently through the branches. He would never stop being amazed by her. As much as her work always troubled him, he smiled and kissed her forehead. “Is this for me?” Daisy nodded shyly, she must not have been feeling well, for she was never timid with him. “Thank you very much, I love it. Why don’t we go put it on the fridge, for everyone to see?” Hoisting the small girl onto his hip, he left the window and went into the kitchen, finally finding a spare magnet and pinning it up. “There, just like a museum.” He smiled and kissed her hair again, and over the crown of her head he saw Michelle watching them from the counter, lip caught between her teeth and looking troubled. “Why don’t you go find JB? I’m sure he needs someone to play with.” Letting her down and watching her toddle off, he leaned against the counter next to Michelle. Her eyes spoke more than her mouth did; that was how he had recognized her as his own so many years ago. They had the same eyes staring out of different faces.

“She scares me, sometimes.” He waited for her to continue. Her eyes never left the image on the fridge, dead centre. “Always drawing strange things like that. Didn’t think anything of it, at first. Figured she was a natural. Gifted, you know? Always drew landscapes, pretty things.”

“But?” Michelle finally turned to look at him.

“Then she draw you.” He furrowed his brow. “And it was like I knew you, always had. Like you were a -” she took a breath. “A part of me. Makes sense now, after you explained everything. But it didn’t then, thought I was going insane. So did Dean. Not that he cared.”

“I still wish you’d let me tear him apart, Michelle.” He brought a hand up to cup her face, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb. “You are worth so much more than what he forced you to become. You deserve nothing short of a seat in the halls of my brethren.” Michelle shook her head.

“I know you can’t do that. You can do many things, but even that is out of your power.” V-Day had been hard on all of them. Having found his sister again after so long, he had decided to stay employed in Kingsman, and with it had provided Michelle and her daughter with a house of their own, in her name and paid for in full, to take her away from Dean Baker. Were it up to him she would become a goddess, and walk the earth with him for eternity, but his legacy had called him out on his selfishness and refused. Still, he worked every day to rebuild the confidence he knew she had once shown. Thunder cracked outside, making them jump.

“Just the rain.” No. It wasn’t. Shortly after the thunder rolled again, the doorbell rang, and he went to answer it. Outside stood his sister and their mortal employer. She looked at him curiously, just as he looked at Merlin. He waved the two of them inside, and Michelle stood on the edge of the scene, wringing her hands.

“So this is Michelle,” said Freyja, stepping forward and embracing the mortal woman as though they had known each other their whole lives. “She has your eyes.”

“Ah yes, sister, let’s just speak freely in front of Merlin. Or did you forget you had brought him?” He nodded his head at the Scot in greeting, who simply returned it with a confused grimace. “It’s a rather long story, I’m sorry. Everything will be explained at… some point.” He turned to his sister, who was inspecting the child’s raincoat hanging by the door. “Roxy - Freyja, sister dearest - why are you here?” Her bright demeanor became stony in an instant.

“Do you have a table?” At her odd question he lead the small group into the dining room, tucking Michelle under his side as the other two members stood opposite him. His sister laid out an old piece of parchment, unfolding it until it reached it’s full size. Releasing Michelle, he ran his hands reverently over what appeared to be a map, labelled in runes older than almost he.

“What is this?” His whisper cut through the silence like a knife. He looked up at his sister, and then at the quartermaster. “Where did you get it?”

“It was in the archives,” Merlin said, finding his voice at last. “Roxy and I were doing some cleaning, going through Chester’s things, and we ran across it.” His sister laced their fingers together across the table.

“It’s a map, brother dear.” She said, her voice no louder than his. “To Valhalla.” He pulled away from her and the table as though he had been burned, pacing a few strides before turning and walking in the other direction. He scrubbed a hand down his face.

“Valhalla is lost. It fell when the æsir did. You know this, sister, better than anyone.” No one moved for a moment, feeling the pain in his voice. His sister had told him about how she had tried to find the realm again, in search of a fallen heroine who she had cared for ,  and had broken his hope that any he had once loved may still exist . Michelle put a hand on his shoulder.

“But if it didn’t,” her voice was quiet, speaking only to him though carrying enough for the other members to hear. “Then you might be able to find that man you had spoken of, the one who had died.” Of course she would choose now to bring up Him. Even in the months, almost a year, after that seemingly normal day in July, it still hurt him to say his name aloud, to even say it in his thoughts. It had been so long since the death of a human had hurt him to this degree. “You said he had died a hero. I know enough about your world to know that Valhalla is where heroes go. You’d never know if you didn’t try. And the two of you could - you would have each other.”

He was silent, trying to take the pain she felt away from her. He knew that even if he did manage to locate the resting place of fallen heroes, he would have to find Lee, for her. For his Michelle. But finding Lee would break Michelle more than failing to do so; Lee would remain immortal until Ragnarök, and she would not. Over her head, he looked at his sister and nodded.


	3. Chapter 3

When Harry awoke, the world around him was bright. Everything seemed to run with the steadiness of sunshine through liquid honey, and he quickly shut his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he counted backwards from ten, exhaled, and then opened his eyes again. He seemed to be in some sort of hospital room, though it was far too organic for it to be anything made by man. The sparse white furniture looked as though it grew directly from the floor, and were all made of delicately fashioned wood. At first glance there didn’t appear to be a door, and Harry could feel his heartbeat pick up at the thought of being trapped in such a strange place. He had never liked being stuck in one place, and he hated being stuck almost as much as he had loathed Kingsman’s medical facility, with it’s eery silence and lingering smell of antiseptic.

_ It’s alright, Harry. Just think. Be rational about this.  _ Instead of focusing on the bizarre room he was in, Harry focused on breathing deeply and bringing himself back under control. Testing out the movement of his limbs, he ran a hand down his face. From his tentative pressing to his forehead, there was no scarring, and he knew from being able to see the room that he had use of both eyes, which were still present in his head. Harry frowned, and flexed his legs before trying to shift to get out of the bed he was lying in.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Turning his head, under the large window reading a book in most comfortable leather chair Harry had ever seen, was someone who was supposed to be dead ( _ he  _ was supposed to be dead as well, but Harry was desperately trying not to think about that). Harry blinked owlishly, and he could feel his mouth drop open slightly. “I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up. We were all getting worried.”

“Lee?” The man nodded.

“The very same.” Suddenly, Harry felt guilty. He had taken this man away from his wife, from his home, with the full knowledge that he was walking into what was essentially certain death. Even  _ if  _ Lee Unwin had survived the trials, survived the grenade, there was little to no way that Chester King would have put him on anything other than missions with a low survival rate. After the man’s death, he had left his wife alone in the world, distraught, and she had fallen into the clutches of Dean Baker - someone who, despite never having been in the same room with the man and only having whatever information Eggsy had given him, Harry absolutely despised.

“I’m sorry.” The words were choked, but Lee heard him and shook his head sadly.

“Don’t be. I knew what I was getting into. So did Michelle, to some extent.” Harry nodded. “Now, if it’s all the same to you, why don’t we track you down something to eat, and get you out of this bed?” Setting his book down and helping him up, once Harry was firmly on the floor and standing, much to his surprise, a door appeared in the far wall as if it had always been there. Lee turned the handle and lead him into the hallway, walking purposefully and without looking back, knowing that despite his curiosity Harry would follow.

“Where  _ are  _ we, Lee? This doesn’t make any sense.” Passing a floor to ceiling window, Harry looked out and saw the swaying branches of a tree. Except that was impossible, because the leaves looked to be the size of a large skyscraper. On the other side of the wall were more doors, and then suddenly both walls vanished entirely. A gust of wind blew down the hallway, strong enough to knock him off his feet, yet somehow Harry managed to keep his balance. Lee didn’t look put off by it at all.

“The afterlife. Heaven. That void between the stars where you know there should be something, but there isn’t.” Lee said, a curious look on his face. Harry shook his head, trying to put the pieces together. They continued their trek down the hall (now with walls and a roof, much to Harry’s delight), until they reached a cavernous atrium designed similarly to his room. There were people here, dressed in all manners of ways and doing all manners of things, all coexisting in a way they should not.

“I’m dead?” Lee put a hand on his shoulder and led him over to the long, overstuffed food table Harry had failed to notice on his way in, distracted as he was by all the people, and also by the fact that the room itself seemed to be breathing - the waterfall taking up one wall pulsed every so often, and the ground beneath their feet seemed to hum ( _ why was nobody else disturbed by this? _ ) - and dished him a full plate of food, then sat him down at a small table with a window view overlooking the strange tree from earlier.

“Yes and no. This place, the people in it, we’re all  _ seggr _ .” Lee picked a strawberry off of Harry’s place, as if the throaty, ancient word was commonplace. Harry raised an eyebrow as he took a bite of his toast, but Lee didn’t explain any further. “We’re all here, waiting. Most of us have been here longer than others, but there were quite a few who showed up around the same time you did. Care to enlighten me?”

“On -” Harry had wanted to say  _ Earth _ , as though he knew that wherever they were currently was very much not there. Taking a sip of the coffee Lee had so helpfully provided, he tried again. “Back home, there was a mess involving Richmond Valentine, where he tried to slaughter most of the world’s population in an attempt to save the planet. Michelle is fine, don’t worry.” Lee relaxed in his chair. Even after all this time, the man still cared. Perhaps he always would. “If the influx of people here has slowed, that means that the people I left behind had managed to stop it. Either that or none of them died as, how did you say it?  _ Seggr _ ?” Lee nodded.

“There were a few, but you’re probably right.” Harry tried not to think about Lee’s use of the word  _ probably _ (he tried not to think about a lot of things, really) and what that might mean for Merlin, and the knights, and Roxanne. What it might mean for Eggsy. “Anyway, as far as anyone can tell, this place hasn’t been attended to in centuries. It’s the same thing, day in and day out. We get up, we eat, we train, we rest. We get up the next day and do it again, and the day after that, and the day after that.”  _ Centuries!? _

“Training? For what?” Lee looked off to the far side of the atrium, where above the massive set of doors, each wide enough to fit a commercial airplane and about twice as tall, there was a clock that was stuck permanently on the infinity symbols. Only the millisecond numbers were blurring down to zero. Above the sign, there were a set of letters that as Harry looked, the more readable they became:  _ lykð _ . “End?” Harry rubbed at his eyes, pushing the heels of his hands in hard enough to see sparks.

“It’s referring to Ragnarök. The end of the world as humanity knows it, but also the end of everything else. Everywhere.” Harry’s meal didn’t taste so inviting any longer, his toast laid like ash over his tongue and his coffee was suddenly too bitter and thick.

“The end of the world?” Harry thought about all the people he had left behind, all of the things he had left unsaid. He thought mostly about Eggsy, and how horrible he had been before he left him alone in that godawful house, angry and disappointed but most of all terrified. Lee nodded.

“We can’t die until then.” The tone of Lee’s voice said not to press. It said that he had tried. Harry knew the feeling. “That’s all I know, unfortunately. There isn’t a visitor’s guide to the afterlife, nor was there any sort of handbook when I arrived to help me with this. Anything I know, I had to learn from the people here. Some of them you might find familiar.” A sly smile crept up on Lee’s face, and despite the lack of resemblance in their features (something he only knew because Eggsy was related to Michelle through a different branch of her family, rather than as her son as he had originally suspected) Harry was homesick for the same smile on Eggsy’s face, a look he had worn often. Stalling to think about it, to just think about something  _ normal _ , Harry realized that he was homesick for Eggsy entirely; the way he smiled, the way he laughed, his My Fair Lady references, and how he cared so much about people. How Eggsy had cared about  _ him _ , beyond all reasoning.

Spearing what he knew would be a mouthful of food still tasteless in his shock, Harry added  _ being in love with Eggsy Unwin _ to his list of things he didn’t really want to think about at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me tell you, I was NOT going to have Lee sitting in that chair. He just sort of appeared and now he's part of the storyline, but I have a Plan, don't worry ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright here we go. Buckle up, because the ball is about to get rolling.

“Run this by me one more time.” Merlin sat across from them in the back of the cab he and Freyja had arrived in, rubbing his temples and looking very much like he needed something stiffer than anything that could be found on Midgard. “The two of you are  _ who _ ?” Freya looked down at her nails absently.

“We  _ told  _ you. Stardust, technically. To humans, we’ve gone by far too many names to count.” She looked over at her brother, and an understanding passed between them. They were older than the planet itself, unlike many of the gods who had sprung into being at the same time. They were older than time and almost as old as the universe. They didn’t  _ have _ names. Merlin, with his albeit slightly above normal understanding of the world around him, wouldn’t be able to grasp just how incomprehensible they were. “For now, you can call us as you knew us before - Eggsy Unwin and Roxanne Morton.” Merlin shook his head.

“But you  _ are _ siblings?” Freyja sighed.

“ _ Yes. _ ” Merlin reached into the console and pulled out a decanter of scotch. Eyeing it for a moment, he uncorked it and took a long pull, not bothering to use a glass.

The remainder of the drive from Michelle’s home to the shop front was quiet, as they were trying to give Merlin the time he needed to understand what was going on. After all, his entire worldview had done more than merely shifted - it had been tilted on it’s axis entirely. Bragi studied the street as the cab zipped through traffic, wondering. He wondered whether his sister was right, whether Valhalla was out there somewhere, nestled in the branches of the world tree, standing vigil over the heroes of the realm. He knew that there was no way to retrieve many of those he had lost; they were relics of a different age, a different religion. Not everyone went to Valhalla, some went on to be reincarnated, some tried thrice and made the Isles of Blest in the underworld, where they were watched over by Hades. He shuddered to think that there would be another trip down there, into the cold. Bragi had always scoffed at the mortal’s believe that Hell was hot, when in reality it was far from it. Much like Helheim, it was so cold that the air itself was hung with ice, and would remain so unless you were being rewarded with Paradise, or there was a special punishment designed for you.

As his mind had seemed to do so often as of late, Bragi’s wanderings led him to the door he had been refusing to open. It wasn’t plain, but it’s wasn’t ostentatious. It was solid and warm, much like the memories of the man it contained.  _ Harry will be in Valhalla. He must be. If it still hangs in the sky, he will be there _ . There was no other viable option for his rest - his birthplace being so close to the dwelling of the mortal tribes of the Aesir, it was entirely possible that alone would grant him initial right of passage. There was also the fact that Harry had died in battle. The rules of entrance into Valhalla had shifted over the centuries, as it became exceedingly rare that one died in close combat. Harry had made a valiant effort to survive in Kentucky, and it should have been recognized for the heroism that it was. Harry was a good man, a great one.

_ Was he? How much do you really know about him? You are far older than he, and yet you allowed him to treat you as your form reflects. You gave him control, and what did he do with it? _

Bragi shook his head and blinked, squeezing his eyes shut and bringing himself back into the moment. The voice in his head hadn’t been his own, and even in their near eternal lifetime he and his sister had never reached a telepathic link. Glancing out of the corner of his eye at the other two occupants, Freyja sat on the seat next to him staring blankly out of her own window, and in the facing seat Merlin had finally put the bottle away though he was still far too pale. He had heard that voice before, but it burned his head to remember where. Before he could puzzle over it further, the cab rolled to a halt, and Merlin slapped his hands on the seat, causing both of them to jump. Despite their age and their training in Kingsman, neither were  _ ever  _ prepared for what humans would do at any given moment.

“Alright, Eggsy, Roxy. Let’s get to work.” Merlin paused. “Apologies, it’s still far too weird.” Freyja raised a perfect eyebrow.

“Work on what?” Merlin looked at her, brow furrowed.

“Well, the two of you are going to need help finding the gate to Valhalla, are you not?” Bragi met his sister’s gaze and tried to suppress a sigh. “Since it’s becoming clear that neither of you actually know where to start.” The Scot opened the cab door and the three of them filed out, going in after Merlin. Passing the window, he could have sworn there was a wolf looking back at him, but when he blinked, it was gone. Heading into the upper floor of the shop where one of Arthur’s offices were located without even a nod to the man working the floor, the three of them passed down hallway to their destination. Once inside, it seemed as though a bomb had gone off - and it was a fair correlation, considering both Bragi and Freyja had seen a few of them go off at close range. There were papers on every possible surface, organized by date and subject. Bragi picked at the corner of a stack labelled  _ Ivan _ .

“Merlin, what is all of this?” The Quartermaster didn’t stop his path, instead going to the bookcase at the back of the room. Removing an antique looking vase from it’s shelf, the case swung towards him.

“Research, but nothing we need.” He nodded his head into the passage. “This way.” Bragi and Freya followed him into the passage, similar to the one they had just exited, and after turning several corners and going up a flight of old, dusty stairs they reached another room. It was small, cramped, but no less luxurious than the main office. This, too, was loaded down with papers, though these were far older than any that had yet been seen. “ _ This _ is what’s going to help us get you where you need to go.” Merlin pulled a thick tome off of an already overladen shelf and set it down on top of the table, disregarding the papers already on top of it. Opening it to what appeared to be a table of contents, upon closer inspection Bragi could see the whole page was written in runes, and he would bet his best set of arrows that the rest of the text was the same. “This is where Roxy, er, Freyja,  _ you’re sister _ and I found the map you saw earlier.” From nowhere, said map was produced out of one of his sister’s many pockets and spread on the table next to the tome. “And I’d wager the clues you need to read it are in this book. Now,” Merlin looked between the two of them, eyes alight like a child on Christmas day. “Let’s get started.”


	5. Chapter 5

Harry sat looking at the two men across from him. Both men he knew, and both men he had watched die. Lee directly, as a result of his own mistakes, and James through the video feed as was kustom during a toast to a fallen agent. Both men looked the epitome of perfect health, though Harry thought that perhaps  _ breathing and in one piece _ were miracles in and of themselves. James sipped nonchalantly on his tea, as though their surroundings were as normal as could be. As if a giant, indoor waterfall inside a bloody  _ tree _ was normal.

“You need to get a grip on yourself, dear friend.” James still wasn’t looking at him, instead watching the leaves play in the wind outside of their window. “You’re as dead as we are. Would you like a medal?” Lee glared at him.

“There’s no need for that, James. Do you remember how unsettled  _ you _ were when you first arrived? You threw a vase at my head and told me  _ I _ was the mental one.” Lee pursed his lips when their fellow ex-Kingsman said nothing. “At any rate, we all know about the same as far as where we are. Don’t you think that Harry’s right? That we should try and figure out what this place actually is, why it’s here, aside from a large tree full of people who should be dead but clearly aren’t?” James put his cup down in his saucer and finally rejoined the conversation properly.

“ _ ‘Don’t you think Harry’s right?’  _ Once a protegé,  _ always _ a protegé, I see. That clearly didn’t change after you died.” Harry put his head in his hands and tried not to sigh. All he had wanted was a simple explanation, and possibly a course of action, and they had been sitting here for over an hour getting nowhere on both counts. In a way he was glad that the two men never had never received the chance to work together in a more formal setting at the Round Table; while it was tragic that both men had, well,  _ died _ , their relationship seemed so turbulent and bordering on bitter that it would have been a mess to clean up after them. “Fine, then. You want answers?” James stood, not bothering to finish the last of his tea, and walked away from the table and assuming the other two men would follow him to his unknown destination. They did.

The three walked in silence through the branches of trees, billowed every so often by the disappearing of the walls around them. Time moved strangely here, and while his body seemed to think he had only been here for a handful of hours, his mind agreed with the changing patterns of the sun in that they had been here for almost a month and a half. Harry didn’t know how much of that time he had spent unconscious in his room before waking up fully, but however long it had been, his mind was as attuned as the rest to the passages of time. Regardless, he was somewhat used to the oddities of the world around him now; the way it changed daily, and no room could be found in the same way twice in a row, even if it was always located in the same place. He and Lee followed James down the shifting hallway until the reached a large set of doors that, like everything else, were growing straight out of the tree itself and were carved with ancient-looking runes.

“What is this?” James huffed and opened the doors.  _ Always with the dramatics _ .

“The library. In here is everything we could possibly need on what exactly is going on here, who we are,  _ what  _ we are, and why we’re here.” Their footsteps rang off of the flooring, echoing into the silent expanse before them. Walls of bookshelves rose up before them, connected by ladders and balconies and catwalks, and looking up, Harry couldn’t even see the ceiling, just the light streaming through the gaps in the rafters. “What I would like to know is why nobody has ever thought to look here before.”

_ Curiosity.  _ A voice called out, though it was too loud to have a single speaker. Despite the life they had lived, all three men jumped.  _ Not many of your kind hold enough of it to find this place. _ Harry was the first to find his voice.

“Who are you?” There was silence for a moment, and Harry thought that perhaps it had simply been a fluke, and that the room hadn’t answered their question.

_ I’m knowledge. Truth. All you need do is ask.  _ The wall rumbled, and instinctively Harry looked to see if any of the books would fall off of their shelves, but none moved. Harry looked at Lee, and then at James, and they shared an equal parts terrified and confused expression. James stepped forward, away from the other two men.

“Why are we here?” He waited for the response to come.

_ Because you are heroes. The old gods have sent their valkyries to collect you. You have been rewarded for your deeds in life.  _ James smiled, but Harry saw Lee’s pained expression out of the corner of his eye. He could relate; when he had pulled Lee from the Marines, Lee had killed people. There was blood on his hands, enough of it for him to believe that there was little good left in him. In his time in Kingsman, Harry had done enough foul deeds to land him in Hell for eternity - he had lied, stolen, killed, manipulated for his own ends. All in the name of peace. He was glad that this life had never spoiled Eggsy, and he was glad that now Eggsy could take his talents and try to do something good, to work for change, even if it wasn’t how he had originally intended for the younger man. James had lived the same life as he did, but he had always revelled in the violence. Perhaps that was why he was smiling. He didn’t believe that what he was doing was wrong.

The three of them spread out, trying to cover more ground as they skimmed across titles, some written in languages Harry had never heard of, and some that didn’t even have titles at all. They knew they could simply ask the library for help in their search, but if there was one thing they knew, it was that some things were better done by hand.

Harry walked up and down rows upon rows of books, searching for something he couldn’t place, but hoped he would know when he found it. He was on the third floor now, walls of books still towering above him, when he could feel eyes on the back of his neck. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he reached for a weapon no longer there, and he turned slowly. There was no one, as he had known there would be, and nothing behind him save for the side of the library. Turning back around to continue his trek, the toe of his shoe grazed something hard, and looking down, there was a book where he had just been standing. He bent to pick it up, turning it over in his hands. It was old, far older than he had seen so far, and the cover was made of leather dyed a rich midnight blue. The title on the cover was written in runes, and when he turned the book over they sparkled like stars, both the runework and the stitching inlaid with silver. It was a slim little volume, narrow enough to tuck inside his shirt without anyone being the wiser to it. He wondered briefly if there was a punishment for removing books from the library.

“Harry!” James’ voice echoed through the cavernous room, and leaning over the banister he could see both James and Lee waving at him from the doorway. “Come on!” Taking the stairs two at a time, Harry made his way back down to the main entrance where the rest of his party was waiting. “I think that may be about enough for one day, don’t you think? There’s plenty of books here, and we have as long as we like.” James, it seemed, had settled in well to his newfound immortality, far better than either Harry or Lee. The three of them crossed the threshold, Harry bringing up the rear.

_ Be wary of what you seek, Henry Hart. All that you may know comes at a lofty price. Are you willing to pay it? _

Harry glanced between James and Lee waiting for him outside the door, but he didn’t notice that he had stopped walking. Neither man, it seemed, heard the voice in their head. It was only audible to him. Lifting his head, Harry took a pointed step out of the double doors, and without a sound they swung closed behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

They had been pouring over books for what had seemed like weeks before there was finally a lead of any kind; the moment Bragi had translated the name from runic to English he knew where they had to go, he could feel it like an itch under his skin.  _ ‘Norway, are you sure?’  _ His sister had said, her eyebrow raised in question but he could tell that Freyja knew just as well as he.  _ ‘It is fitting, don’t you think, that we go back to where this all began?’  _ Merlin hadn’t quite understood, but had booked them a flight out of country anyway, a miracle on rather short notice. They hadn’t wanted to use Kingsman resources, not knowing when - or  _ if _ \- they would be back. Their transfer plane touched down in the rural airport, a small thing with three arrival gates and just as many for departure, and Bragi squeezed her hand as they waited for the other passengers to begin to vacate. Something had changed in the air, and Bragi didn’t quite know what, but he knew he had been right about their destination. They grabbed their bags and made their transition into Norway smoothly, the fake identification Merlin had provided for them holding up. Disregarding the cab drivers, the two of them left the airport on foot, following the tug in his gut that Bragi hoped was leading them in the right direction.

Shouldering his borrowed canvas bag, Bragi looked to the forest and took a deep breath in through his nose; it was exactly as he had remembered it. Ancient, towering, pulsing with life and magic and things unknown. The itch under his skin was back, and something in the trees called to him. Wherever they needed to go, it would be in there.

“Should we not try to find lodging for the night, brother? We’ve had a long flight, far longer than either of us have been accustomed to.” Bragi knew in his heart that Freyja was right, and lifetimes apart, no matter how many, would ever change that his sister was always more level-headed of the two of them, but he closed his eyes and shook his head, checking briefly for cars before crossing the road and heading into the firs. Freyja followed, eyes dancing. “Eager, are we brother?” He turned to look at her, jaw set and eyes hard. She nodded, and the two of them trudged on silently through the trees. The forest whispered its secrets to him as they walked, as it always had and would likely always will. This was the one thing that hadn’t changed much during his time on earth. Nature would always speak to him, it would always be  _ there _ , knowing, waiting, hovering on the edge of his vision like a comforting friend waiting for him to acknowledge their warmth. Neither he nor Freyja spoke for hours.

Through the tops of the trees Bragi could see the sky turn from blue to vibrant reds and golds, and in the silence of the evening he could hear a brook running close by.

“The stars will be out soon. Should we stop for the night, or should we continue on?” Even with the stream running north, there would be no guarantees that they would be able to find what they were looking for in the dark. Freyja looked up at the sky and the nearly full moon appearing above the trees with a longing he knew all too well, and she sighed, adjusting the strap of her own bag.

“Trees like these hide secrets.”

That was all she said, and with a firm nod Bragi adjusted his course to head for the stream. When they reached it, the bank they found was stable enough to support them for the night, and at least it was dry this time, even for summertime. The running water was deep enough that he could see fish glinting in the moonlight, and it was a comforting thought that even after his life had been thrown upside down some things always continued as normal. The moon would always rise and the trees would always grow, and fish would always swim in rivers.

“Should we make a fire tonight?” His sister nodded and began pulling the sleeping rolls out of her bag that Merlin had provided, beginning to set up camp. They worked in silence, moving rocks for a firepit and setting out their beds. Bragi managed to find a few sturdy branches that snapped easily, collecting enough for a fire that would last them for the night and for cooking in the morning. He marvelled at the technologies mortals had developed; hundreds of years ago he would have had to light the fire by hand, but instead at a lick of his fingers the wood had caught aflame. He huddled down next to his sister, drawing a blanket around their shoulders as she passed him half of a sandwich.

“How did you get this?” His sister didn’t reply immediately, having taken a bite of her own half, and shrugged.

“While you were getting our bags from the claim I stopped at the convenience store. I don’t know how long what I bought will last us, but we’ve done more with less.” They hadn’t been able to take their gear through carry-on on their flight, being just a size too large. Bragi remembered the days of what could only be considered their youth, exploring and meddling with hardly more than the clothes on their backs and a handful of weapons, with only enough provisions to last them the night and then left to fend for themselves. When he had thought Freyja lost to him, he often looked back on those times to chase the loneliness away.

The sun had fully set now, the stars a wide array of twinkling lights pinned into a black canvas, and Bragi was reminded oddly of the butterflies that had been pinned in cases on the walls of Harry’s house. Beautiful things, trapped and preserved to be cared about at will. It made him both nostalgic and depressed; the times he had shared with Harry, no matter how brief, were like the butterflies in those cases - short-lived and ultimately a relic. Even if he  _ didn’t _ find Harry when they made it to Valhalla, he would always have those memories that could be wrapped around him like a blanket. Next to him, Freyja stoke the fire idly.

“Do you think we’ll find it?” Her voice was quiet, hardly a whisper in the darkness. She sounded nervous. “Valhalla?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think there was a very real possibility, you  _ know _ that.” Freyja sighed.

“You know what I mean, brother.” He did; Freyja had been asking not if they would find the realm of honoured heroes, but if they would find the hero who had begun their quest to begin with. If they would find Harry. Bragi was silent for a long while, watching the stars twinkle in the sky and the aurora flicker in its rainbow of colours across the sky. The mortals had, long ago, referred to it as the bifrost, and in a way they had been correct. It was also thought to be one of the first predictors of Ragnarök, with Fenris appearing in the sky, harkening his release from captivity. Bragi must have been silent for longer than he had thought, for when Freyja nudged her shoulder against his bicep she was looking up at him in concern. He looked away from her, watching the flames dance.

“I don’t know.” He didn’t, not really. He had a feeling, a hope, but nothing more about Harry’s existing in Valhalla. There was enough evidence for it, surely, but if the realm of fallen heroes was really as lost as the rest of the realms connected to Yggdrasil, then his soul would do no more than float among the stars for eternity. “I don’t know.” Freyja rubbed circles into his thigh with her thumb in understanding; this trip was hard for her too, he knew, for she had also lost people she would like desperately to see again. None of this was fair to her in any way, his dragging her along. She had volunteered against his protests to go with him, of course, and it wasn’t that he didn’t want her to be at his side, but it burned him that there would likely be nothing for her at the end of this.

“Get some rest, brother. You’ve had a long, emotional few days.” The ache of exhaustion from the last week washed over him like a wave, sinking into his bones in a way it hadn’t done for lifetimes. “I’ll keep first watch.” Bragi shook his head, knowing that if she did she would be up all night, and she must be as tired as he was.

“Why don’t we both get some rest? We’re protected here.” Reluctantly she followed his lead and burrowed into her sleeping bag, their fingers tangled together as they had that first night in the recruit bunker. Watching the stars and studying their changes, the dancing of the aurora worried him. It seemed too manic, too uncontrolled but at the same time too distinct in its patterns, and he couldn’t place them. If he shuffled closer to his sister in the darkness, then there was no one around to judge him for it.

Bragi awoke some hours later to find that their fire had dimmed to embers, though the air around him felt no colder than when it had been blazing. Furrowing his brow at it, for there was no reason it should have gone out, he sat up and rubbed at his eyes.

“Ah, good, you’re awake.” He scrambled out of his sleeping bag, less legitimately terrified and more startled that he hadn’t heard the man’s arrival. “We have some things to discuss,  _ Wordsmith _ .” A shiver washed over his frame; he hadn’t been openly called by that name since before they had infiltrated the Aesir, since before the creation of the planets and the solar systems and the galaxies that all hung like tiny dewdrops in a spider’s web. Since there was nothing in the universe but smatterings of stars. Bragi blinked once, twice, and rubbed at his eyes. The man was still there, sitting calmly on a stump in his pinstripe suit, grey hair pulled back to the nape of his neck and a single braid threaded through the side. He didn’t necessarily look old, but wisdom and age radiated around him like a cloak.

“I know you.” The man laughed, a deep sound that shook his whole frame.

“As you should, for we have known each other for a rather long time. I say I would be quite offended if you didn’t.” The man’s eyes - two different colours, one gold and one a smoky white, gleamed in the dim light. He didn’t wait for Bragi to reply before speaking again. “I know what it is you seek, and, as a final favour to you, I will offer you two pieces of advice.” Bragi nodded, collecting himself enough to sit cross-legged on the other side of the dying fire. “It has time for this chapter to come full circle, and for that you must go to where it began.”

“To the village,” Bragi interrupted quietly. He  _ knew _ where he had to go, why tell him this now? The other man nodded. In the embers, sparks cracked and danced before him, making shapes in the darkness, but just when he thought he could place the figures, they changed.

“And beyond. To the beginning, you will know the place. As does that flower you covet so dearly.” His voice was solemn, pointed, but once again he gave no time for contemplation. “My second piece is this.” With a wave of his hand, the half-formed shapes formed a rapidly shifting scene; a snake uncoiled from it’s nest and before it struck shifted into a coyote, who lunged. The images became larger, the size of real beings, and the scene shifted from the wild dog into a leaping salmon, repeating again and again until it ended with a horse cantering around their clearing, grinding to a halt to blow smoke into his face before disappearing completely. “I will not tell you what this means, for that is up to you, but I think we both know you already have an idea.” The old man laughed again. “Now, sleep. You have long days ahead of you.” He waved his hand and Bragi felt sleep tugging at him once more, fighting it on the way down to the lining of his sleeping bag.

His last thought before unconsciousness took him into it’s fold again was that the horse had been in possession of eight legs.

In the distance, a raven cawed thrice, and Bragi woke with a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you paying attention - the renaming of Eggsy's character gets explained later, though I don't think I really do justice to Roxy, unfortunately. Just... bear with the insanity that is going to be the next little bit.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please... ignore my gross bastardization and butchery of literally every single religion like, ever. It got away from me. It will continue to get away from me for the next... little bit....

Stacks of heavy tomes sat on tables in precarious stacks around Harry’s room, written in too many different languages to count. They were books on religion, science, creation, anything he could possibly think could be useful. He had poured over each of them in turn and at length, marking pages and taking notes. So far none of it was making sense, and everything kept coming back to words. Each account was correct in it’s own way, was understandable, but half of them in turn were knocked out by the reading of the next one. Something wasn’t adding up, and Harry had a feeling it was going to come back full circle to that little book he had taken on that first trip to the library. There was something in the slim volume that called to him while he was asleep like a siren of something he shouldn’t ever be allowed to know. Harry looked up from the book spread out on his lap (and the piles of notes laid out on his bed in no particular order whatsoever) and blinked owlishly at Lee as he entered the room.

“Have you been up all night?” Only then did Harry notice that the lamp he had lit when his room became too dark to read in the night before had been overcast by the honeyed sunlight streaming in his open window. He could feel himself smile guiltily, as though Lee were his father who had caught him up past curfew again.

“Possibly.” Lee stared him down and Harry caved. “Yes.” Lee sighed and picked up a handful of papers so he could sit on the bed, leafing through them as he did.

“Harry, you’ve been going through these books for  _ days _ , and I still don’t understand what you’re looking for. None of these things are going to help you understand.” Lee had helped him carry a fair few from the cavernous library, and had a fair point in telling him it was fruitless. Harry had been holed up in his room, only leaving briefly for food and to burn off some steam, and he had hardly seen anyone in that time. “At least tell me what you’re looking for so that I can help you.” Harry sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face as he finally catalogued how  _ tired _ he was. His eyes were burning from lack of sleep, and he was still no closer to finding his answers than he had been when he arrived. Both men looked up when the door slid open again, James appearing on the other side holding an overladen tray of breakfast food.

“The old man’s still alive then?” He chuckled as he set the tray down on a side table, biting into a crisp apple. Harry glared at him.

“I may be older than you, but I can still kick your ass, James.” James merely grinned around apple and took another bite, shuffling more securely onto the mattress. He had become significantly less insufferable the past few days, slipping easily back into the banter they had shared before the last mission to Argentina and its fatal result for the previous Lancelot.

“Well, what are we doing?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “It’s not like there’s a lot by way of entertainment to go on around here, Hart. I need  _ something _ to do.” The corner of Harry’s mouth curled, one eyebrow raising in interest. James swallowed thickly and looked to Lee for help, who merely shrugged in response. Harry divided the stacks of paper into thirds and handed a pile to each of the other two men.

“We’re starting by going through these. Perhaps a fresh set of eyes would help.” James sighed but snatched his designated set away from Harry all the same, gravitating away from the bed to sprawl in the chair by the window.

“This is what you missed by throwing yourself on that grenade, Lee. Kingsman is an awful lot of action packed into short time frames, and the rest is frightfully boring shit like this.” Harry glared at him as he crossed the room to butter himself a bagel that was sitting on the tray James had brought up. Lee’s death was still a sore spot. Lee did little more than make himself comfortable on the foot of Harry’s bed, carefully moving the heavy books placed there out of the way.

“I for one find this all rather interesting, if only I knew what I was looking for.” He looked up at Harry curiously, and Harry sat down at the head of the bed before he answered.

“We’re looking for connections. Anything you may deem relevant, no matter how trivial it may seem.” James grunted but said nothing, settling into the familiar pattern that he had so long endured. Lee nodded and began reading, and said nothing more.

The three of them passed the remainder of the morning in silence, moving only to shake out the tingling of lack of bloodflow that clogged their muscles or to wander over to the quickly dwindling supply of food, the sun arcing across the sky lazily in a way that made time stretch for longer than it should have. It would have worried Harry, under any other circumstances, how long the day itself was progressing, but he had learned very quickly that time in Valhalla moved differently than he was used to. It was Lee who interrupted the silence after hours of it stretching on and on, first huffing in question and then reading a line of Harry’s notes under his breath.

“Have either of you noticed that the universe seems to be created by spoken word rather consistently?” He rolled onto his back. “As in, more than would be normal for creation? The deities change but the pattern doesn’t. It’s here in all the religions I have in front of me.” James got up from his chair and kneeled next to the bed, reading upside down before passing his own set of notes to Lee in exchange.

“You’ve noticed it too? It seems odd, that so many religions have characters out of play after the beginning, and yet their stories are so similar.” The two men looked up at Harry. “What do you think, Hart? Didn’t you find it odd?” Harry gave the page he was reading one last glance, a frown curling over his features. Something was adding up here, but it was no equation he had ever seen before. He didn’t know the outcome, and desperately wanted Merlin to be here to help him. His old friend would know what to do.

“I wonder.” The words were little more than a brush of air past his lips, both Lee and James looking at him curiously. Setting his papers aside and pushing himself off of the bed, Harry opened the drawer on the desk that had simply appeared around the same time he had decided to do his research and pulled out the slim leather volume he had taken on that first trip. He held it loosely in the palm of his hand, weighing it physically against the depth of what it could possibly contain, and ran his thumb along the pages. “I wonder.” When he glanced up, the two other men were looking at him as though they were worried he may snap. Opening the book to the table of contents, as he had suspected the runes began to shift. The list itself was short, divided into two parts:  _ Creation  _ and  _ Destruction _ . Opening it to the first page, Harry paced the room as he rapidly skimmed the pages.

It was all in there, everything, the missing link between the different stories of creation. The one that made them all make  _ sense. _ The pages began with the nothingness, forming an image in his mind’s eye of what it may have looked like to be an endless, lightless expanse of void. Then they spoke of the swirling stardust, scattering out among it like dewdrops in spring, and the thunder of a voice so old ringing out throughout the universe all the while. Creatures being formed from excess stardust, some vaguely humanoid and others shifting wildly between human form and something entirely  _ other _ . All the while Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that while he wasn’t supposed to be reading any of this, the words themselves were so vivid that he was actually witnessing it. He didn’t understand why he hadn’t looked here first.  _ Curiosity,  _ he supposed.  _ I didn’t have quite enough _ .

The forms the creatures took were shifting now into recognizable things, given domains over what parts of creation were important. Harry recognized them from the religions he had read about, the origins of the universe that seemed to so wildly conflict. One by one they multiplied, their stories being told in accelerated style as if their histories were already completed but still nebulously driving the universe on, until the each disappeared, faded into the star patterns around them. Looking at the stars around him in wonder, Harry almost didn’t notice that there were still two beings left, shifting between stardust and human form. He thought he recognized them, and he  _ knew _ that he did when one smiled sadly at him and mouthed  _ ‘Hello.’ _ Harry snapped the volume shut when he felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. Lee looked concerned, and Harry could feel the sweat rapidly chilling the back of his neck.

“Harry, are you alright? You were muttering to yourself.” Harry looked down at the book in his hands and then back up at Lee.

“If you’ll excuse me, there’s somewhere I need to be.” Turning on his heel, Harry ignored their protests as he took his leave from the room, only running when he was in the hallway. After a beat he could hear two sets of footsteps in pursuit, calling after him and telling him to stop. He didn’t; he had one too many questions for the library.

Harry could see the end of the hallway coming, opening into a bright swath of light. As he neared it, he could make out shapes, and almost couldn’t slow down enough to stop himself from going over the railing. It seemed that this time the hall past his room came out as a catwalk over the main atrium. Thankfully he had managed to pitch his weight to prevent himself from falling, but nearly lost it again when the whole room seemed to pitch sideways. Harry hoped that it wasn’t just him.

“What the absolute fuck?” He could hear Lee behind him curse vibrantly, and looking down he could see the source of the commotion. Everyone in the atrium was running in all different directions in blind panic, and the great set of elaborately carved double doors were shuddering so violently that dust was falling to the ground in the near vicinity. “What the hell is going on?”

“Fuck if I know,” Harry had only heard James swear once while they had been coworkers, and it had been as a young agent the first time he had landed himself in extended care in the infirmary. To be fair, he  _ had _ almost put himself in a body cast. Harry looked desperately between the other two men, hoping they understood why he couldn’t linger here. They nodded.

“James, you go with him. I’m going to stay and try to figure out what’s going on.” With that Lee bounded down a set of stairs Harry had failed to notice, making his way carefully towards the next outcropping where a group of people had gathered.

Turning only briefly to James, Harry took off across the catwalk, ignoring the panic below him. It was calming, in a way, listening to James’ footfalls in tandem with his own; it allowed Harry, however briefly, to believe that this was just a regular mission, that nothing bad had happened outside of the ordinary, and that he and James were undercover trying to procure information relevant to national security, instead of on their way to a sentient library in a sketchy afterlife. In the wake of what he had uncovered, what he had learned, he could do with a little bit of normal.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, new chapter! Here we go, guys.

Rubbing at his eyes, Bragi took in the form of his sister poking gently at the flames while a makeshift griddle dangled over it, roasting two large fish from the river. From the looks of it, they had been caught only minutes ago. There was still water dripping off of the cuff of Freyja’s trousers.

“It’s about time you woke up, I was beginning to worry.” Bragi did little more than huff at his sister and roll onto his back, trying to get his bearings. He wasn’t quite sure if last night had been real, but if the stinging at the back of his eyes were any indication, it was as real as his sister sitting a little ways away from him. “You know, for a supposed sun god, you definitely enjoy your beauty sleep. Not that you don’t need it, of course.” His sister finished with a grin on her face that went all the way to her eyes, and she laughed while she skittered out of his reach as he lunged for her ankle. Stretching, Bragi untangled himself from his sleeping bag and got to work putting things away, still troubled about his encounter the night before. Something had been off, and there was a part of this that he couldn’t quite put together.

“I haven’t been a sun god in centuries,” he replied, putting the last of their bedding away in one of the two duffels. It wasn’t a complete lie; the last time he had been worshiped as Apollo had been long ago enough to distance himself from the religion almost entirely. They ate in silence, putting out their fire and breaking camp without a word. While they worked, Bragi tried to formulate a plan of action. He knew that they were headed towards the village, and should they continue at a steady pace they would get there by nightfall, for it was no more than a day’s trek. But Odin - for he was sure now that it  _ was _ the AllFather who had appeared to him, odd as it might seem - had said that they must go beyond that. How far beyond? To the mountains, or would there be some sort of clue left for him in their next destination? Or would he simply have to trust his emotions? His sister put a hand on his shoulder, jarring out of his thoughts. She nodded her head upriver.

“We should get going.”

They walked in silence for the next few hours, but it was comfortable. He enjoyed being alone with his sister again, and it had been ages since it had happened. There was so much of her life he had missed, that he hadn’t been able to stand at her side for, and even as old as they were he hadn’t been able to contain his despair at the thought of never seeing her again, his rage at -  _ something _ , for having torn them apart for so long. He tangled their fingers together as they walked, and she looked up at him.

“I  _ have _ missed you, you know.” She smiled softly, chuckling under her breath. “It has been far too long. I didn’t enjoy being apart.” Freyja nodded.

“I know. When I thought you lost to me, I couldn’t escape the feeling that a part of me had gone with you. That I would never be whole again.” Her voice was quiet in the natural silence of the forest, not even enough to be magnified by the trees around them. “I can’t say I lost hope, because there was always a voice at the back of my mind, telling me that you were out there, in some realm, and that I just had to find you. Sometimes I liked to believe that the voice was yours.” Bragi could feel tears prick at the backs of his eyes at his sister’s confession. He had leveled cities, countries on every realm known to him, trying to find her. There were times when he didn’t even recognize himself without her. Freyja had always been his calming influence, his level head, even before they had worked their way into Earth’s religions. He knocked their shoulder’s together, careful not to push her into the river, and she smiled, but neither of them said anything further for a long while.

The forest around them seemed to grow more dense as they moved inwards, older, dangerous. The sunlight that they hadn’t noticed was fading slowly towards the horizon was barely visible now though the branches of the trees, and Bragi knew that they only had a few more hours left of sunlight. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he stopped walking to listen to the trees around him. Behind his eyes days passed, years, centuries. The village from his past haunted him still, fading slowly into decay as it was abandoned for a larger, more fruitful region. The once-sturdy buildings crumbled until they were little more than outlines of what once had been, ravaged by time. His vision began to swim, and when it refocused again a large russet wolf was staring at him out of the trees. It tilted its head and blinked at him, tail flicking, and then without a sound turned its back and disappeared into the trees. Opening his eyes again, Bragi looked down at his sister, whose brow was furrowed in worry and curiosity. Turning away from the river, he pushed through the branches of the firs. Even through his clothes, he could feel the needles grabbing at his skin, though whether they were calling him home or preventing him from getting there, he couldn’t be sure.

“What did you see?” He could hear the concern in his sister’s voice, but he didn’t turn to look at her. He didn’t respond, walking in silence for as long as he dared. Raising an arm above his face he pushed through the last of the branches until they came to an unassuming clearing. There was no evidence of habitation, but he knew better. There were some things that not even time couldn’t erase, that  _ he  _ couldn’t erase, no matter how much influence he put into his words, and what had occurred in this clearing was one of them. Dropping his bag, gingerly he made his way across the clearing the kneel in front of the lone tree that grew in the middle. There were no others around it, and no conceivable reason for it to grow  _ there _ , but he knew better. He had put it there. The tree itself was massive, but it’s many branches were delicate. Reaching out a hand, Bragi brushed the backs of his knuckles over the needles gently. His sister knelt next to him, one hand on his bicep.

“Is this where -” he nodded, butting off her question, and she was silent. When he had first visited this place, when the aesir had come to collect him at the behest of the AllFather - or perhaps at their own will, he was never quite sure on that front - he had saved every one of these people. All but one; a small child with the bluest eyes he had ever seen. “Daisies?” Looking down, Bragi barked out a laugh despite the tightness of his throat.

“Of course. That explains, well,  _ everything _ , really.” His sister raised an eyebrow. “Michelle’s little one, who has visions? Her name is  _ Daisy _ . This cannot be a coincidence.”

_ I thought a man like you would have learned not to believe in such simple things as coincidences.  _ He must have jolted on his feet, responding to the voice in his head, but when he turned to see if his sister had noticed she looked just as wild-eyed as he must have. Putting a hand on her shoulder to ground himself, Bragi looked around the clearing. At the edge, just as there had been in his vision, sat a large russet wolf. It was larger than he assumed it would be, the top of it’s head likely coming up to the middle of his ribs. Leaning in between his sister and the animal subconsciously, he wished he had any sort of weapon on him, but it had been long since he had wielded a sword and it, too, had likely been lost to the ages.

“You don’t think it was  _ him _ , do you?” His sister whispered, looking over his shoulder. He was about to respond when the voice came again, ringing across the empty space.

_ Of course it was me. It has been too long, and things were beginning to become boring. _ The wolf didn’t seem to speak, doing little more than swiping it’s tongue over the blood on its muzzle.  _ Am I not allowed to have fun more often than once in an eon?  _ Bragi could feel his eyes narrow.

“I do not trust you,  _ ulfr _ .” The wolf barked at them, but it sounded distinctly like a laugh. “What do you want? What is your purpose in all of this?” Getting to his feet, Bragi tried to make himself look as threatening as possible. The air around him crackled, but the wolf wasn’t deterred. It paced silently at the edge of the trees.

_ The same thing you want, Wordsmith.  _ It may have been a trick of the setting sun, but in the last of the light glancing off of the animal’s fur, there appeared to be scarring down the side of his face, and both eyes were milky white with blindness instead of the brown they should have been.

“And what is that?” Freyja seemed just as distressed as he that the wolf knew who he truly was, and it was only a matter of time before her true name was tossed to the winds as well. Her voice shook only slightly as she too rose to her feet. The wolf stopped pacing and regarded her for a moment, bowing slightly.

_ Freedom.  _ With that, he disappeared into the trees as he had done in Bragi’s vision, and Freyja sagged into her brother’s side.

“Eons we have walked the world, walked all worlds, since their birth. Never did I think we would see  _ him _ again.” Bragi looked down at her; her face was pale and a fine sheen of sweat hovered over her brow.

“But it wasn’t, it couldn’t have been him. We were there when it happened.” It was true; in order for the narrative to continue, there were certain protocols that had to be followed. Many of them he had written himself. He had known, when they first entered the halls of Asgard, that the name he would take had been bound in distress for his sister. He  _ had _ died, briefly, but he had put contingencies in place to keep himself from floating into stardust until time dictated. Had he not, his true death would have been the separation from the one being who had always been by his side. “ _ Loki is still chained. _ ” He could feel his sister nod against him, and he tugged her closer against his side. “But we have to keep going. I know where we need to be.”

Taking his sister’s hand in his, he took up the bags they had dropped and left the clearing the same way the wolf had, moving quickly up a path that rose and fell with the mountain it had began on. The whole while Bragi could feel them slipping backwards in time, the magic he had felt before was growing stronger, like amber resin trapped out of time inside the earth. The higher they went the more the scenery began to change. The trees grew thinner and snow dusted off of the branches of the trees as they passed. He could see his sister looking around out of the corner of his eye, but his only focus was forward. So driven was this path, that neither seemed to notice the passage of time, the movement of the stars across the sky under the full moon or the patterns of the aurora above them until all three faded to make way for the grey light of dawn. Reaching an outcropping, Bragi looked out through the trees as the sun crept across the horizon line at lit the sky aflame. Freyja came to a stop next to him, breath drawn in wonder.

“It’s as though time has stopped here.” He nodded. He remembered as clearly as if it had been yesterday, watching the sun rise, the way it caught across the trees and the crystals that hung in the mist. He let out a breath and watched the small cloud disperse into the sunlight. “Do you really think this will work?” The side of Bragi’s mouth quirked up and led her three steps backwards until they were in the middle of the small clearing, the very same as where he had first visited Midgard.

“It has to. Heimdall never could resist a neat conclusion.” Freyja looked up at him, but he was too busy watching the sunrise with narrowed eyes to notice. The sun rose a little bit higher in the sky, and for a moment, he doubted. Then the reds and golds in the clouds formed shapes he could recognize, and the light was impossibly bright. Freyja put an arm up to shield her eyes from the light, turning her face to catch a glimpse of what her brother was seeing.

Then the world around them burned away in blinding, golden light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got hijacked by yet another god, I can't even... that's twice. Ugh.


	9. Chapter 9

The walls around them were bright, shimmering with the last plays of iridescence from the portal that had opened around them. In the centre of it all stood an old man, well built for his age, regarding them silently. After a moment of tense silence, he nodded solemnly and spread his arms.

“It has been far too long since I have had cause to use this, old friend.” Bragi smiled and embraced the god before him. Out of every deity he had encountered in his life, Heimdall had always been one of his favourites. The old god was as close to a father as he could ever get, and not even time could erase the regard he held for him. Releasing him and nodding in turn to Freyja, Heimdall continued. “But I know that you aren’t here for me. All the things I see, and yet what you seek,” Heimdall shook his head wearily. “Your path is uncertain.”

“But you  _ can _ help us find it, can you not? Valhalla is still hanging among the branches of the world tree?” Heimdall’s response to Freyja’s question was to turn away and lead them down the path to Asgard.

Taking it in, the once-glorious realm had faded, the starlight doing less to increase its grandeur than it did to highlight the way the soaring arches and towering buildings that had stood as testaments to godhood now began to crumble. Even as they walked, in the distance a column shuddered and slid in on itself, the sound deafening in the eery silence. Like anything, the powers of the Aesir were driven on the beliefs of their worshipers. While they had founded the religions, inspired followers along their paths, the gods were weak without the support they had once gained.  _ Perhaps we had never noticed the dying flames, never having been properly worshiped ourselves _ , Bragi thought as he followed Heimdall towards the main hall before suddenly veering off to the left, towards the inner city. Bragi was glad for it; he didn’t think he could take seeing what had become of the halls of the warriors.

“Times have changed, my friends,” Heimdall said, as though reading his thoughts. Bragi thought that perhaps he could. “We are not as strong as we once were. We are scattered throughout time and space, lost to each other and the realm who once worshiped us as gods. I fear that one day, the flame may cease to burn entirely.” Bragi swallowed thickly. The buildings around him showed signs of age, of wear, and every so often a bird in the distance would caw. Noticing him tilt his head in direction of the sound, Heimdall chuckled. “For ages, now, the ravens have been my only company.” In the perpetual twilight, his golden eyes glittered.

“Thoughts and memories.” Heimdall nodded, but didn’t comment further. The three of them were nearing the edge of the city proper now, and Bragi could see trees springing up around the edge, as they always had and always would. Heimdall stopped and set a hand heavily on Bragi’s shoulder. When their eyes met, the weight of age and eternal watch was clear. “Inside the forest is a tower. I am not even sure Odin knows about it, though it is possible that he does. At the top, you will find a doorway, and inside you will find what you seek.” Bragi nodded and clutched at the hand.

“Thank you, old friend.” Turning to his sister to get her thoughts on the matter, he was met with cold eyes looking back the way they had came. Following her gaze, there was no one there. The old god had vanished. Perhaps he had never been there at all.

The walk to the tower was shorter than he had expected it to be, his feet carrying him down a long-overgrown path as the trees grew taller around him. The only building they came across, not quite tall enough to breach the tree line, shone like silver in the dusk. Bragi traced his fingers over the doorway where it had been roughly torn from its hinges, the runes along the jamb burnt and cracked.

“Something has happened here.” Silently, Freyja unzipped the duffel bag she was carrying, and from inside she pulled out far too many things to have reasonably been able to close it. Slinging a quiver over her back and inspecting a silver bow, she nodded in her brother’s direction. His fingers closed around the hilt of a sword, and he could hear his ears begin to ring. It wasn’t  _ his _ sword, the one he had forged in starlight, but that sword had been lost to the winds of time. This one belonged to the realm of the aesir and his time in it, and he knew it would serve him well. “Well sister? After you.”

Freyja rolled her eyes and shouldered past him into the building, an arrow notched carefully between her fingers. He followed, and together they made their way up the single set of stair to the top. The tower was silent, layered thick with dust, and whatever altercation had left its mark on the doorway showed no evidence inside. At the top of the stairwell stood a single door, and looking back at her brother briefly, Freyja pushed it open with two fingers. It creaked ominously, and Freyja’s brow furrowed. The two of them stepped inside, but there were no other signs of life, nor that the room’s contents had been disturbed. A single wooden chair stood under the window next to a desk, but the surface was empty save for several inches of dust. In the wall opposite the window were a massive set of double doors; they seemed far too large to be only in the room, and watching the runes shift and change around the jamb Bragi knew that they were a passage. Sharing a look with his sister, the two of them wordlessly leaned against the doors, shifting all of their weight against them. The wood creaked and groaned under the strain, but eventually they shuddered and began to move.

\-----

There were people running everywhere, in all different directions and in all manners of dress. The place they entered shouldn’t have existed, shouldn’t have been possible, and yet it was. Freyja turned to look at her brother, whose eyes were flicking around the room, trying to make sense of it.

“We’re  _ inside _ the world tree.” Freyja began to laugh uncontrollably, starting with a giggle and escalating from there. “It’s  _ here, we did it _ .” Bragi looked down at her, ignoring the small crowd that was beginning to gather on a balcony on the wall, who was almost close enough for hearing distance.

“Of course we did. A little bit of faith goes a long way, doesn’t it?” His sister smiled, the small secret one that she had always saved for him. While he had forged a name for himself, something to go by instead of the borrowed titles he adopted as he wandered from place to place, his sister had chosen to remain nameless. But just as words were important -  _ fundamental _ \- to the function of societies, so was the belief that there was something out there to work towards; a faith in some larger part that you were only a cog of. It wasn’t restricted to religion alone, neither of them were. They were both beyond time, beyond people and religion and life that abounded throughout spiralling galaxies. They simply were. And that was all there was to it. Before his sister could reply, one of the people from the balcony made his way down the stairs to join them at the gate. Bragi recognized him instantly.

“You’re Lee Unwin, aren’t you?” The man pulled up short, blinking in surprise, and he went stiff as a board when Bragi pulled him into a firm hug.

“Do I know you? Either of you?” Lee said, looking between them in confusion. Bragi released him and stepped back, giving the room one last sweep before giving Lee his full attention.

“No,” Freyja supplied, still studying the man before her with interest. “You don’t, but we’re familiar with you. But how we know you isn’t of import at the moment. We’re looking for someone.”

“Harry.”

“He’s here? Have you seen him?” Bragi was sure that his voice sounded panicked, but Lee didn’t seem phased, only nodding in response. “Can you take us to him?” Lee gestured for the two of him to follow, and he turned to make his way up the stairs, passing the group of shocked bystanders on their way up. The small group blinked owlishly at the trio from the shadows, but said nothing. For a moment, Bragi thought that his sister may have recognized one of them, but she merely shook her head and moved on.

They crossed the catwalk in silence, exiting the large atrium, still trembling in mild panic as the doors swung shut of their own accord, through a set of elegant doors that looked like they had grown directly from the tree itself. The siblings followed Lee’s steady pace a step behind him, all three of them lost in thought.  _ Just because Lee is here _ , he thought, studying the back of the man’s head.  _ There is no way you can bring him back to Michelle. He cannot leave here until Ragnarök. The mortal world is not ready for a man like him. _ Freyja must have felt his distress, because she brushed her hand against his. Of all the people he could have taken with him on this trip, he was glad that his sister had forced him to agree to her companionship. His fight had been token, of course, but he was happy all the same. The thought of seeing Harry but not being allowed to retrieve him from this place sat heavy in his heart, but Bragi knew that he would spend the rest of his life within these walls if it meant that he could spend it with the man they were going to see. He would have to find a way to keep his small family together. It seemed like an endless stretch of time until they reached their destination, but Lee stopped and gestured to another large set of doors.

“He should be in the library. I don’t know where, but I wish you luck.” Bragi thanked him and took the nearest set of stairs leading him upwards, and Lee and Freyja took the other taking them to the other side of the cavernous area. He searched for what felt like hours until he came across someone. He was bent over a stack of books, flipping through pages as though his life depended on it.

“Hello, James.” The man looked up, blinked once, twice, then stood up.

“You’re him, aren’t you?” His voice was as clear as Bragi remembered it being in life, though he had only met the man briefly. “The one Harry’s searching for.” Bragi nodded.

“Do you know where he is?” James shook his head.

“I lost him almost the moment we came in. I noticed this stack of books, and I hoped that maybe he was nearby, but he wasn’t.”

“Thank you.” James hadn’t been much help, but at least he was sure now that Harry was in the room. He climbed higher, checking in alcoves and outcroppings for the man, but Harry was nowhere to be found. Looking over the railing and surveying the space from the sixth towering floor, Bragi sighed. There was no way he was going to find Harry in this place, it was large, even for him. The frank disorganization of the sheer volume of knowledge reminded him of the inside of his brain, were it a physical place.

“Eggsy?” The voice was tentative, and Bragi looked around but didn’t see anyone, either on this side of the library or on any of the spindle-thin catwalks that connected one side to the other. “Up here.” Tilting his head up, Harry was looking down from two floors above, shirtsleeves rolled up past his elbows and hair in disarray, with a manic grin on his face.

“Harry?” He couldn’t believe it. “Stay there. I’ll - I’ll come to you.” He broke into a sprint towards the nearest set of stairs, taking them two at a time until he reached the right level, and looking over at him was Harry. Bragi couldn’t help it, he grinned. After watching the man die, he had never once thought that there could be  _ any  _ way that he could see Harry again. He walked slowly towards Harry, and when he stopped in front of him one hand reached out tentatively. He was solid, he was  _ real _ . This wasn’t a dream. “I have missed you so, Harry.” Hand traced the lines of Harry’s jaw and the other man leaned into his touch.

“I woke up here and I was so  _ angry _ . I hated myself for not being able to apologize for those things that I said. You didn’t deserve to hear them.” Bragi shook his head, tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. It wasn’t Harry’s fault, the man had only been doing his job. “But I suppose it’s in order, even if it’s just to keep you from killing me.” Harry laughed softly, the rich sound dampened by the volume of books around them. “Your name isn’t Eggsy, is it?”

“No, it’s not. But if it helps you to wrap your head around things, you can call me by it.” Harry smiled down at him and went easily when he was tugged into Bragi’s arms, his chin resting on the top of the man’s head.

“Wrapping my head around the fact that I am, by the literal sense of the word, in love with the stars? I don’t think that will  _ ever _ happen.” Harry couldn’t see his face, but Bragi smiled against his chest. He had been hoping that there was something there, something that could make this all  _ worth _ it, and he was glad.

“Harry, I -” Through the warmth of Harry’s shirt, Bragi could feel something poking at him. Pulling back, he watched as a crimson stain spread across the middle of Harry’s abdomen. Suddenly Harry was dead weight, and Bragi found that holding Harry in his arms close enough to feel his heart struggle to beat was worse than watching it happen through a screen. The two of them crumpled to the ground, his hands clutching at Harry, and Bragi could hear the sound of footsteps grinding to a halt behind him as he glared at the man standing next to the bannister, twirling a dagger idly between his fingers as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a doozy. I'm so mean, bringing them together only to do *that*. But now it's a single story line instead of the dual one that I had running. The rest of it will be in the same narrative style as Eggsy's - Bragi's? - storyline, as a quick heads up.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry’s head was resting against Bragi’s chest as he glared up at the man before him. His red hair was matted, the braiding in it doing little to keep it out of the way. Brushing a lock of hair out of his eye, the scarring around them that marred his face became visible. Still twirling the dagger, he chuckled darkly.

“Are we all having fun yet?” A wry grin crossed his face, twisting the scars. Bragi could feel Freyja kneel next to him, joining him in pressing down on the wound in Harry’s chest. With his sister there he thought himself safe to rise, but the god wagged a finger at him. “Ah ah ah, he’s bleeding out, remember?” As if he had  _ forgotten _ . Bragi could feel Harry’s heart pumping slower under his ribs. They were running out of time.

“What do you  _ want _ , Loki?” The god wasn’t really there before them, he couldn’t be, unless there was something drastic and world-shattering that they had missed. “Why do this? What do you gain?”

“I’m helping you, don’t you see? Harry here was keeping you from your full potential. All that power, lost to you because of your silly attachments.” Loki spun the blade around on a fingertip before clenching it in his palm. “Of course, I can’t destroy  _ everyone _ you care about, or every single mortal you’re connected to. That would take me too long. But Harry Hart, oh yes, I think he would be a  _ fine _ place to start.” Loki scanned the three of them, lingering on the way he was clutching Harry to his chest as though his hands alone could keep the blood in his body. It shouldn’t have been possible for Harry to be bleeding this heavily. Valhalla was supposed to be  _ safe _ . “Then you can finally be free.”

“And who are you to make that decision? Who are you to take this away from me? You are  _ nothing _ next to me.” Loki spread his arms out and laughed.

“If you can find a way to pass your precious  _ seggr _ off to that pretty sister of yours,” next to him, Bragi could feel Freyja shudder. “Then by all means, come and put me in my place.” Then, like the cheshire cat that he was, they watched him disappear before their eyes. Bragi turned to his sister, then twisted to look at Lee and James behind them, who were frozen in shock.

“There has to be something we can do. I won’t watch him die again.” Freyja nodded, shifting Harry’s weight onto her to keep the pressure steady. There was a weak pressure on his fingers, and when Bragi looked down Harry was clutching them, smiling weakly at him.

“At least I got to tell you, just the once.” When he laughed, it was wet, and turned quickly into a cough. “That will have to be enough.” Crouching next to him, Bragi turned Harry’s head up with two fingers and gently pressed their mouths together.

“That won’t be our last, Harry. But I need you to hang on. Can you do that? For me?” Harry nodded, and when he finally let go Bragi stood. He scanned the library; Loki couldn’t have gone far. If he was using enough power to physically project realms away from where he was held, then it would take him too much energy to disappear entirely unless he was planning on leaving the chamber altogether and not returning. But that wasn’t his style, and it never had been. The trickster god had always enjoyed staying around to watch his toys fall apart. Spying him on a catwalk several floors above them, Bragi felt a feral grin creep over his face. Picking up his sword from where it had fallen, he was almost to the first set of stairs before anyone spoke again.

“What are you going to do?” In his desire for revenge, Bragi had almost forgotten about Lee. He would have to find a way to make it possible for the man to travel with them, to see Michelle. He owed it to both of them.

“Something I should have done  _ long _ ago.”

With those as his parting words, he took the stairs two at a time until he reached the right level, checking every so often to make sure that Loki hadn’t moved. The god simply stood there, watching his ascent with a smile on his face. Staring Loki down from the end of the catwalk was akin to flight. None of the steps he took felt real, grounded. The feeling of floating was something that he hadn’t felt since he was far younger, since he had been at home among the stars and swirling galaxies. It must have been the aura he was giving off, because Loki’s smile faltered.

“Is your pet dead then?” It was a valiant try for bravery, but that was something Loki never had been. With the floating feeling had come a trickling of his long-forgotten powers, and when Loki began to back away from him, Bragi cut off his escape by simply willing away the other end of the catwalk.

“Stand and fight me, trickster. I have no mood for your games.” He leveled his sword to Loki’s chest, and with a smirk the dagger in Loki’s hand grew to simulate a sword of his own. The blade glinted wickedly in the dim light, and the tip was still stained red. Seeing Harry’s blood on the metal awakened emotions in him that Bragi no longer thought he could feel. The pure, unadulterated rage at the man standing before him unlocked something inside, and when he cut and parried every blow it was with deadly precision. In no more than a few moments Loki’s sword went skittering off the edge of the catwalk, the god crawling backwards away from his attacker. Hoisting Loki up by his collar with one hand, Bragi moved just enough for the other man to be dangling over the edge.

“A drop from this height would kill you. It is no matter that you aren’t entirely present.” Loki swallowed and looked down. “Would you like to test it?” His hands scrambled for purchase, clutching at Bragi’s wrist and cuff.

“You can’t kill me.” Loki’s voice was tense, but he tried for a chuckle anyway. “That isn’t how the legends work.” Reeling him in slightly, Bragi smiled.

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Those legends?  _ I wrote them _ .” Loki regarded him with wild eyes as he was once again dangling over empty space. “I may rewrite them as I choose.”

“You wouldn’t. Not even you have that power. Not over the life and death of gods.” Loki looked down again. “Please.” Bragi pretended to think for a moment.

“I won’t kill you. Not yet. But I  _ will _ forbid you from touching what is mine ever again.” The words were laced with ancient power, the likes of which was present at the Beginning. “And I forbid you from meddling in the affairs of mortals. You are hereby stripped of your abilities to project yourself.  _ Be gone. _ ” In the span of a blink, Bragi was standing over the same man, now chained to rocks. A snake hovered over him, fangs dripping poison. Just as quickly as he had traveled, Bragi was back in the library, his fist clutching at empty air. He smiled. Turning on his heel, he broke into a sprint towards where the rest of their small party was waiting, hoping, praying,  _ believing _ that he wasn’t too late.

He wasn’t, but it was close. He was only a few steps away and already he could see the light in Harry’s eyes dimming. Freyja was looking panicked as he skidded to a halt and all but threw himself to the ground, checking pulse points.

“He doesn’t have long. For your sake, as well as his, I hope you have a plan, brother.” Her voice was solemn and resigned.

“There is one way. But I’ll need help.” Pulling Harry carefully onto his lap, Bragi cast around at the small group. His one possible opportunity had been song, the same one he had used to mix immortality into the gods during creation. There was no guarantee that it would work now; Harry may just be too different. Lee stepped forward.

“Whatever you need.” Bragi pursed his lips; if this went wrong, then Lee could be wiped from the heavens eternally, and there would be no way to get him back to Michelle at all. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he had to try. If he didn’t, he may lose them both. But the fact of the matter remained that even with his ability to tap into his full range of powers, there was no guarantee that it would work. He wasn’t strong enough, not quite. But he was running out of time.

“I’ll need to channel the power you’ve gained since your stay here.” Lee nodded and took a seat next to him, taking the hand offered to him. “Let me know if it gets to be too much.”

“Of course.” Then Bragi pressed his hand closer to Harry’s ribs, stopping the blood still flowing sluggishly, and began to sing.

The walls around them shook with the power of the words pouring out of his mouth. Bragi tried not to focus on them too closely, turning his attention to the flow of energy that passed between the three of them. He could feel it begin to flow between them, the words dripping like honey off of his tongue. Between his fingers, Bragi could feel the flow of blood trickled almost to a stop, and from behind his closed eyes - when had they closed? He didn’t remember closing them - he could see constellations forming and drifting, galaxies swirling around them, and a soft golden glow encompassing it all and getting brighter with every passing moment. Lee’s grip on his hand slackened briefly before tightening again, and Bragi hoped that he would only have to sing the verse once. Lee might not be able to hold out much longer. Forcing his eyes open, Bragi watched as the wound on Harry’s chest began to stitch together until it closed completely, leaving only a fresh scar in its wake. The four of them held their breath and Lee swayed into his side. Harry coughed once, then rolled over. What he spit up had the consistency of the blood that had been collecting in his throat, though that was where the similarities ended.

“Ichor,” Freyja breathed out, relief clear in her voice. Next to him, Lee’s breathing became laboured, and when he turned to look, the man was sweating.

“I think I may have taken too much from him.” This would be another failure in a long line of them, failing to save someone at the expense of someone else.

“No, I’m alright, I just -” As he tried to stand, Lee staggered into the railing. Freyja caught the brunt of his weight, one hand splayed over his chest.

“His heart is beating too fast. He’s reacting to the realm.” There was a law, somewhere in the recesses of time, that stated that it was impossible for living mortals to sustain their lives in Valhalla. The composition of it was too different from what their bodies were used to, and as a result they would burn up from the inside. “We have to get him out of here.”

They made it to the doors of the Atrium before being in Valhalla began to truly take it’s toll in Lee. Supported between Freyja and James, he was almost too weak to move, and with Harry draped over Bragi’s shoulder for support until he could properly stand, there was no way they would be able to get the massive set of doors open in time. The great room was, thankfully, empty of any bystanders, but it made their options much more slim in the area of aid. From under Lee’s arm, Freyja looked desperate.

“There has to be  _ something _ we can do. Isn’t there?” Bragi shrugged helplessly. It had been too long since he had lived up to his title of wordsmith, and nothing he could say now would make the doors open.

“If there was ever a time to call in one last favour, it would be now.”

“All you had to do was ask.” Turning to face the doors again, Light was streaming through them and there in the centre stood the figure from his dream.

“Odin.” Staggering forward under Harry’s weight, Bragi was the first to reach the AllFather. “Why are you helping us?”

“Consider it a debt repaid, old friend.” With a wink and a secret smile, Odin turned and walked through the doors into the blinding light beyond them. Nodding his head at the others in the direction Odin had just passed through, Bragi followed him, trusting his sister to follow with Lee. James, he knew, would have to stay behind.

Just when the light almost became too much to bear, their surroundings shifted into something familiar. The sound of glass shattering on hard ground brought the four of them back to reality, taking in the nearly empty lab around them.

“Jesus  _ motherfucking _ Christ.” Tilting into his side and breathing out a laugh, Harry pressed his face against the top of Bragi’s head in relief.

“Not quite, Merlin.” Jumping up from his chair and hovering around them in disbelief, Merlin gave Lee a thorough run down and, reassured that he was in fact alive, came to a stop in front of Bragi.

“You tenacious sonuvabitch.” A wide grin cracked across his face, and Bragi could feel one spread across his own. Merlin’s eyes flicked between Harry and the god briefly. “You  _ actually _ did it.”

“You sound shocked.” Bragi raised an eyebrow. “All we needed was a little bit of faith.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was certainly something, wasn't it? This fic contains some of the most dramatic asses I've ever written, I'll tell you that.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May I have your attention, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals? Without further adieu, I present -
> 
> The Final Chapter

Bragi eyed his sister, speaking quietly to a man he knew only as Percival, just out of earshot of the rest of their small party. She lifted a hand to his shoulder in comfort as he sat down heavily on the nearest available surface - a sturdy cushioned bench - and ran his hands through his perfectly styled hair. She said nothing beyond that, letting him process whatever news she had brought with her. Bragi guessed it had something to do with James.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? There’s a place for you here, you know. You had more than earned it.” Bragi turned his attention to Merlin and Lee, in the middle of enticing Lee back into the agency. Lee shook his head.

“Perhaps one day, down in Avalon, working behind a desk in research and development.” Lee sighed. “But not now, old friend. I have things I need to do first.” Merlin nodded; even after not having seen Lee in decades, he could tell that the source of his friend’s distress was Michelle. Merlin accompanied Lee over to where he and Harry were waiting for the shuttle to take them to the shop floor.

“I suppose that’s the three of you off, then?” Bragi nodded and gave each of them a firm hug. “Thank you, Eggsy.” The name sounded odd from the Scot, but it didn’t appear to have any real effect when he pulled back to address the three of them as a group. “Try not to give Dagonet a heart attack, understand? I don’t think he’ll take kindly to seeing two dead men walk out of his fitting room. And Harry - when you get a minute, we need to talk about your position here. But for now,” Merlin nodded at Roxanne, including her in his next statement though she didn’t join them just yet, “get some rest.”

The three of them rode the shuttle in silence, Harry dropping off briefly as his body adjusted to the changes that had been forced upon it when Bragi saved his life. Lee waited before his head dropped to Bragi’s shoulder before he spoke.

“I didn’t thank you properly, for what you did.”

“I nearly killed you.” Lee shook his head.

“No. You’ve given me an opportunity to have the life that was taken from me.” Lee smiled sadly, and the guilt of what happened came crashing down on both of them.

“She’ll be happy to see you, you know.” Lee’s head jolted up to look at him. “Michelle. She isn’t quite the same woman you left, but she’s in there, somewhere. She’ll be happy. She deserves it.” There must have been a warning in his voice, because Lee shrunk in on himself ever so slightly.

“You know that I would  _ never _ do anything to hurt her.” Bragi inclined his head.

“Of that I’m aware, but remember that she’s family to me, just as she is to you.” Lee nodded, and neither man said anything further until they stepped out of the elevator on Savile Row. Their arrival wasn’t quite as intimidating as it could have been, with Lee’s focus turned inwards on himself and Harry still blinking sleep from his eyes from the half hour shuttle ride, but for his part Dagonet didn’t outwardly display shock as Merlin had told them he might have.

The three of them piled into a cab and Bragi gave the address for Michelle’s house - the one he had barred Dean from entering so often he hoped that the man had gotten the hint, no matter how many times he was proven wrong. When they pulled up the street, Bragi leaned around the driver to peer out of the windscreen, watching the red and blue lights of two police cars flashing in the street, two officers standing on the kerb while the others, he assumed, were inside. Bragi was out of the cab before it had even rolled to a stop, and with a quick word to Lee to stay in the vehicle Bragi was off like a shot, pulling up short before the policemen, Harry hot on his heels.

“What’s happened?” The two men turned to look at him, unsure of his intentions. “I know the woman who lives in that house, she’s my godmother.” A little lie for information wouldn’t hurt anyone, especially as he couldn’t exactly tell them the truth.

“Domestic dispute, lad. She and her ex-husband were so loud her neighbour called the station. We’re just collecting him now.” Bragi nodded. “If I were her, I’d file a restraining order.” Did this man even know how many times he had told her to do just that? The thought of Dean being anywhere near Michelle - near  _ Daisy _ \- made his blood boil, and he could feel a snarl creep onto his face, but he managed to force it down when Michelle appeared in the doorway of the house, followed by the other two officers and one Dean Anthony Baker. Bragi was up and gone to her before he could think, hands flitting around her to make sure she was okay.

“I’m  _ fine _ . Honest.” She gave him a small smile, and Bragi tugged her in for a tight hug, turning his face into her hair and breathing in as he felt her hands fist into his shirt. “I’m fine, it’s okay.” Pulling back, Michelle caught sight of Harry still in conversation with the officers on the kerb, and her smile grew a little bit wider. Her eyes were still sad. “You found him?”

“Yeah, I did. It’s going to be okay, we’re going to be whole again.” Michelle looked at him. “We  _ all _ are.” Bragi spared hardly a glance for the man being marched to the police cruiser as he went inside the house to collect his young charge, laughing as she ran to him and was immediately swung up in the air before pulling her in to blow raspberries on her neck.

“You’re home!”

“I am, little flower, and I’m going to be for a  _ very _ long time. Now why don’t we go outside? I have a surprise for you and your mum.” Daisy scrunched her eyebrows, the effect rather ruined by the fact that she didn’t have much eyebrow to scrunch, and her dirty blond hair fell into her face.

“Surprise? What surprise?” Michelle fell into step with them as they passed, Daisy settled firmly on Bragi’s hip though she was nearly too big to be carried, and he tried to keep the grin off of his face as he nodded to the driver of the cab they had arrived in, Michelle watching in confusion as the man turned around and the passenger’s side door opened. She gave a sharp intake when she saw who had gotten out.

“Lee?” Her steps were tentative, and Lee waited for her to come to him with a fragile hope clear on his face. Michelle raised a hand to touch him before turning back to Bragi. “You found him? He’s here?” Bragi nodded, and after that Michelle forgot about everyone around them, pitching forward to throw her arms around Lee’s neck and clutch at him, just as his arms wrapped around her waist and held her.

“Who’s that?” Daisy’s voice was loud in his ear, though he knew she had been trying to whisper, and he couldn’t help but smile at her curiosity.

“He’s the man your mum loves, little flower. And he’s going to take good care of you.” Daisy twirled a lock of hair around her fingers.

“Is he gonna be my dad now?” Michelle and Lee had turned to watch the two of them, glancing between Bragi and Daisy nervously.

“If you want him to be.” Daisy looked away from him to watch Lee, her brow crinkling again. She saw the way he had hugged her mum, and how much nicer he seemed than a man she could hardly remember. She nodded.

“Okay.” A smile broke out on Michelle’s face and she reached for her daughter, Daisy going willingly to greet Lee properly. The three of them were so absorbed in each other that they didn’t notice Harry coming to stand at Bragi’s side, wrapping an arm around the other man’s waist.

“There you are, love. I was wondering where you had skittered off to.” Harry smiled, planting a kiss to the top of his head.

“Never far from you, darling. Now what say we go home?” Looking up at Harry seriously, Bragi considered his options. Harry’s old flat in the Mews wasn’t far from where they were, but to the best of his knowledge it hadn’t had a serious cleaning since the man’s death, though he knew that they house itself hadn’t been passed to another occupant. Of course, with the way Harry was looking at him, he knew that Harry wouldn’t care if it was a dingy motel room above a dive bar so long as they were alone.

With one last look at the little family standing on the front lawn, Bragi thought that the three of them would be more than fine. Pulling Harry down by his collar for a firm kiss, he could feel the other man smile against his mouth.

“Anything you want, love.” They piled back into the cab and gave directions to the flat in Stanhope Mews, sitting on opposite sides of the vehicle to keep their hands off of each other. Merlin would never let them live it down if they wound up snogging like teenagers in the back seat.

Harry had, of course, forgotten about one rather important detail. After he had died, the locks on the house had been changed and even if they hadn’t been, Harry didn’t have a key.

“I never thought I would see the day when I was barred entry from my own house.” Harry said, watching in interest as Bragi gave their immediate vicinity a cursory glance before bracing his shoulder and spinning the doorknob hard enough to snap the lock. When he looked back, Harry;s eyebrows were nearly in his hairline.

“Did you forget you were dealing with someone stronger than the average mortal being?” Harry’s expression shifted from shocked to unimpressed as Bragi opened the door for him, holding it open for the other man to go inside before entering the house himself and locking the deadbolt of the door behind him. He was surprised it hadn’t been barred to begin with. Everything inside was cleaner than he had expected it to be, but all of Harry’s things were still in place so he knew that he had been right to assume the deed hadn’t been changed over.

When he turned around, Harry was waiting for him, leaning casually against the wall by the stairwell. His sleeves had been cuffed to his elbows and his arms were crossed in front of his chest. Bragi found he liked the overall effect of it. Harry didn’t move as he padded down the hallway towards him, a smile creeping over his face the closer he came. Running his fingers up Harry’s bicep, Bragi managed to unlink Harry’s arms and press himself into the available space, one hand sliding up into the other man’s hair to find the angle he wanted for a kiss. Harry closed the distance between them, meeting him with a claiming kiss that had managed to short a circuit in his brain. They stood like that for a moment, Harry’s fingers digging into his hips and Bragi’s arms around Harry’s neck.

“So,” Bragi said, finally pulling away after what felt to him like a small eternity. “Immortality. What do you want to do first?” Harry’s grin was wolfish as he ran his eyes down Bragi’s body, skimming back up slowly to meet the other man’s eyes.

“Oh, I can think of a few things.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this wasn't how you were expecting their little quest to end, then I am terribly sorry. But I had so much fun writing this, and I can't even being to tell you how grateful I am for all of you lovely readers who read and dropped a kudos or a comment.  
> Also, If you want to come say hello on my tumblr, I'm nerdyydragon on there as well :)


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